


A Masked Rendezvous

by being_alive



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 15:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17706704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive
Summary: "Is this seat taken?" A man suddenly asks her, startling her from her searching of the crowd."No," Juliet replies, looking over at the man. His voice is vaguely familiar, but she's not entirely sure where she's heard it before. The man sits in the seat across from hers, looking out at the dancers, and Juliet takes the opportunity to study him. He's finely dressed, too finely dressed to be a servingman, and his clothes and mask are unfamiliar to her, so she concludes that he is likely a nobleman unrelated to her.





	A Masked Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> You know, it was only a matter of time before I, uh, wrote something like this.

Today is her mother's thirty-seventh birthday, and to celebrate the occasion her parents have done what they do best, with what they do best being hosting a ball. The ball is in fact where Juliet is now, sitting at a table to the side and taking a short break from dancing while simply observing the people that are dancing. The guests are all wearing masks, so it's impossible for her to tell who is who. The only people she can even recognize are her family members and her Nurse, and that's only because she'd seen their masks beforehand. Her mother is dancing with a tall man in a green mask while her father is over to the side, eating. Several of her cousins and her Nurse are all dancing together, but there's no sign of Tybalt or his cat-eared mask.

"Is this seat taken?" A man suddenly asks her, startling her from her searching of the crowd.

"No," Juliet replies, looking over at the man. His voice is vaguely familiar, but she's not entirely sure where she's heard it before. The man sits in the seat across from hers, looking out at the dancers, and Juliet takes the opportunity to study him. He's finely dressed, too finely dressed to be a servingman, and his clothes and mask are unfamiliar to her, so she concludes that he is likely a nobleman unrelated to her. The only part of his face she can see is the lower portion, but she can't discern his identity just from his mouth and jaw, just that he's thin-lipped and clean-shaven. The rest of his face is obscured by an ornately-decorated mask in the colors black and gold. 

Aside from the gold detailing, his mask is unremarkable in shape, and his clothing is in a similar state, being black and ornately decorated but otherwise unremarkable in cut. His hair is dark and neatly-combed back, but greying at and around his temples. When he turns and looks at her, she finds that his eyes are hazel in color.

"So, how come you're not dancing?" The man asks, and she's struck once more by just how familiar his voice is. It frustrates her that she can't quite recognize who the man behind the voice is, but she manages to keep any of her frustration from bleeding into her voice as she replies, "My last dance partner trod upon my foot, so I've been taking a break ever since."

"I see," the man replies, nodding. She supposes she could just ask him of his identity, but not only would that defeat the purpose of the masks but it would also be far too easy, and that's at least assuming that he would actually tell her. Leaning closer to him, Juliet asks, "And what about you? Why are you not dancing?"

"I fear that I tire of dancing more quickly now than I once did," the man says, and Juliet nods. She wonders just how old the man is. Older than her, obviously, and old enough to have grey in his hair, but not so old as to have lines around his mouth.

"That's understandable," Juliet replies. The man nods and then says, "However, perhaps you and I could dance together at least once before this ball ends."

"That sounds lovely," Juliet replies, smiling at the man because perhaps dancing with him would give her more clues to his identity, because if he was invited to this party, it's not unlikely that he was invited to another party hosted by her parents and that they danced together then.

"Unless, of course, someone steals you away first," the man adds, looking out into the crowd, and she follows his gaze to find the green-masked man who was previously dancing with her mother making his way towards where she and her mysterious companion are sitting, a broad smile upon his face.

"Oh, no," Juliet says, without even really meaning to. The man asks, his eyes never leaving the man approaching them, "Or, instead of dancing, how about you and I take a walk together right now?"

"That sounds equally lovely," Juliet replies and stands. Her companion stands as well and then they're walking past the dancers and other assorted revelers and through a pair of doors and then out into a hallway. After a moment, her companion says, "It just now occurred to me how this may seem, the two of us alone together, but I promise you that my intentions in asking you on a walk are nothing if not pure."

The thought of his intentions in asking her to walk with him having any sort of ulterior motive hadn't even occurred to her at all, so she quickly responds, "I didn't think that they weren't. In fact, I'm grateful that you asked me to, because I'm fairly certain that my mother sent that man to ask me to dance, and I'd rather not do so, especially if I'm only being asked at the behest of my mother."

"Good," the man replies, relief clear in his frustratingly familiar voice, and then they're back to walking side-by-side in silence. Juliet doesn't mind the silence, because it gives her even more of a chance to contemplate his possible identity, or at least to attempt to do so. They turn down another hallway, and then her companion abruptly stops. 

Juliet pauses mid-step and only has enough time to catch a brief glimpse of the couple in the hallway in front of them, just long enough to see a woman in a blue dress on her knees in front of a man with bare legs and a cat-eared mask upon his face, and then her companion is grabbing her by the arm and pulling her in the opposite direction. At first, she's confused as to why her companion is pulling her away so quickly, but then she realizes just exactly what was transpiring in the hallway between the man and the woman, and her face becomes hot behind her mask.

"I'm sorry that you had to see that," her companion says, once they've turned down one hallway and then another, their pace swift and his hand still on her arm.

"It's fine," she says, but then admits a moment later, "To tell the truth, I don't quite understand why anyone would want to do that."

The man chuckles and then says, "It's true that the man receiving the act benefits more than the person performing it does, but even so, it can be gratifying to know that you are responsible for making your partner feel such a way."

"I see," Juliet replies, acutely aware of the heat of his hand even through the sleeve of her dress. When the man speaks again, Juliet notices that his voice has dropped lower, and her stomach does a curious little flip. "And besides, women are just as capable of being on the receiving end as men are."

"But how would that work?" Juliet wonders aloud, asking no one in particular. She's heard her male cousins talking about the version of the act where they're on the receiving end when they didn't know she was there, along with what she just saw, but never once has she heard anything of the other version. She can imagine it, to some extent, but imagining isn't the same as knowing.

"Let me show you," the man says, quietly, looking down at her. It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but after they do, Juliet nods, swallowing hard, her stomach twisting in knots even as she and the man step closer to the wall, where the sight of them would be better obscured. She leans back against the wall, watching as the man slowly sinks to his knees in front of her. He looks up at her, an unspoken question is his eyes, and she nods once more before averting her gaze from him and turning it to the ceiling as he raises one hand to his face. 

Part of her wants to continue watching him, but at the same time, she's too nervous to do so. She's not entirely sure if she wants to see his face, to know who he really is, because she's scarcely able to believe that this is really happening and as long as she doesn't know him and he doesn't know her, she can convince herself in the morning that this was all a dream, a fantasy concocted by a bored girl at a party.

She can hear the sound of his mask clattering to the floor but she still can't quite bring herself to look and see who he is, and then he's ducking underneath her skirt, obscuring him so that she couldn't discern his identity even if she were brave enough to do so. When his hands touch the skin just above her knees, she inhales sharply and her eyes flutter shut because while he hasn't even done anything yet, this entire situation is already so much. His hands trail higher, warm against her skin, until his long fingers hook in the waistband of her underthings and then he's pulling them down her legs. 

She steps out of them then adjusts her stance without even thinking of it so that her feet are farther apart. The man's hands return to her legs, brushing over her ankles and then up her calves and then to her thighs. She can feel his breath against her skin as he moves even closer to her, and her stomach does another little flip in anticipation, heat pooling low inside of her. One of his hands travels from her thigh to touching her _there_ , his fingers brushing across the lips of her sex before he parts them and the tips of his fingers glance across her opening. He sucks in a breath, likely at the wetness he finds, and then his mouth is upon her.

Juliet gasps and then slaps her hand against her mouth in order to quiet herself. They're far enough from the party that she doubts any of the attendees would be able to hear her, but she doesn't want to run the risk of being given away by the other noises she has no doubt that will fall from her lips. Her companion presses a light kiss against her and then his lips close around her clit. She presses her hand even harder against her mouth to stifle her gasp as he sucks at her. Two of his fingers just barely dip inside of her and then pull back out once and then once again and once again, as he turns from sucking her clit to circling his tongue around it. Beneath her hand, Juliet bites down on her bottom lip and then suddenly, he's pulling his hand away from her sex, its destination unknown to her, but she finds that she only notices its absence for a brief moment because then he's redoubling his attention on her clit, his tongue circling and flicking against her clit in turn.

Without even really meaning to, Juliet finds herself rocking her hips against him as pleasure grows inside of her. The grip of the hand he's clasping her thigh with tightens as his mouth becomes more and more insistent against her. She can feel him moan against her before returning to his efforts, and not long after does her pleasure reach a crescendo. Her orgasm comes violently, and she bites down even harder on her lip to keep herself from moaning as the tremors rock through her body to the point she's nearly certain that her legs are going to give out underneath her. After some time, the pulses of pleasure begin to slow before coming to an end completely.

Soon after the effects of her orgasm end, she can feel the man pulling away from her, ducking out of her skirt, and she lets her hand fall from her mouth. As she slowly opens her eyes, she realizes that the man is still kneeling in front of her, his head bowed with grey-and-brown hair falling into his face, one hand slipped down below the waistband of his trousers to stroke desperately at his hardened cock.

"Let me help you with that," she says, breathlessly and after a moment of just watching him, heat growing inside her again at the sight in front of her and the realization that she wants to touch him, even if she still doesn't know who he is, even if she isn't quite sure what to do to help him, because she was the one who inspired this reaction within him and that knowledge sends a heady feeling coursing throughout her. If only he would just look up at her, she thinks to herself.

"No," the man replies, resting his forehead against one of her still-shaking thighs as he loosens the laces of his trousers even more before plunging his hand back inside to grasp and stroke his cock. The angle that she is looking down at him from, along with the way he is kneeling against her, prevents her from being able to see much more than a flash of flesh and the frantic movement of his hand.

She threads her fingers through his hair and he looks up at her, desperation clear in his hazel eyes as his hips stutter forward and he too reaches his peak. At first, she is too distracted by the look in his eyes and the way he bites down on his bottom lip to keep quiet that she doesn't even register his identity. And then she suddenly does, and she's uncertain of just what to think because he is the last man she would've ever expected to do something like this, because he is the last man she would've ever considered doing anything like this with, because the Prince of Verona has always seemed so above her and the rest of the Capulets, so unreachable and unattainable and unshakable. But yet here he is, on his knees in front of her, one hand still down the front of his trousers and remnants of his time between her legs drying on his lips.

She's never been more glad to be wearing this mask than she is right now, because at the very least, there's no way that he knows that it is Lord Capulet's daughter that he just brought to pleasure and who he just brought himself self to pleasure in front of. Or at least she hopes that that's the case, but she's not brave enough to ask him otherwise. Slowly, he removes his hand from his trousers, and wipes it on a handkerchief he produces from his pocket, wiping his mouth with the opposite side as well before returning it to his pocket and re-lacing the front of his trousers. She simply stands there and watches him, too shocked by his identity to do anything else.

"I swear to you that my intentions really were pure when we started out," the man, no, the Prince says, amusement showing in the tone of his voice as he picks up his mask from the floor and replaces it upon his face.

"I don't mind how things turned out," she admits after a moment, her face heating up behind her own mask as she bends and pulls up her underthings before straightening. The Prince simply stares up at her for several long moments, his hazel eyes unreadable, before finally he slowly stands and says, "We should return to the party."

Juliet simply nods and then they walk back and rejoin the party. Just before they reach the doors behind which the party is still in swing, the Prince stops. She stops as well, looking up at him, curiosity brimming inside of her. Wordlessly, he grabs her hand and brings it to his face, whereupon he places a soft kiss to the back of it. Juliet can feel herself blushing anew, and all too soon he has let her hand fall back to her side. With a nod and a final glance back to her, he opens the doors and strides inside.

The next day, Juliet finds herself unable to think of much else other than the previous night's events. It seems so hard to believe that she had even done _that_ , because that's not who she normally is. She's more the type for flowers and for romance than she is the type for secret rendezvous with supposed strangers, or at least that's what she's always thought. Perhaps even more surprising than her involvement was the identity of her partner, especially because he had never seemed like the type either. There is a lot she doesn't even know about him, she concedes to herself, because she knows little more about him than his public persona.

She'd like to know his private persona as well, she thinks, in more ways than what little she has already experienced. A small smile comes to her face, before she shakes her head as if to clear it, because that's an impossible thought. He doesn't even know who she is, and she can't even begin to think of a way in which she could approach him about what transpired the previous night.

She is still thinking of what transpired between her and the Prince as she moves from her bed to sit in a spot of sunlight near her bedroom window to work on her embroidery, or at least to try to do so. She's so absorbed in her thoughts, of her recollections of having the most unlikely man kneeling between her legs, that she doesn't even notice the knocking upon her door at first. Only when the knocking becomes more persistent does she finally notice and set her embroidery down and get up. She walks over and opens the door and finds one of her cousins standing outside.

"You have a visitor waiting downstairs," her cousin says, smiling a smile that Juliet doesn't wholly trust.

"Who is it?" Juliet asks in return.

"Go and see for yourself," her cousin replies with a shrug before walking off. Juliet rolls her eyes and sighs before walking out into the hallway, shutting her bedroom door behind her. As she walks down the hallway, she wonders just who her visitor could be and just why her cousin wouldn't tell her, but then she reaches the staircase and sees _him_.

At the bottom of the stairs stands none other but the very man who has been occupying her thoughts. Her heart beating faster at the sight of him, Juliet begins her way down the stairs, walking slowly and carefully so as to not fall in her nervousness and embarrass herself in front of him. She clings to the rail, her gaze never leaving him as she wonders just why he's here. 

Surely he doesn't know, she thinks, but she's unsure of another reason why he would be here to see her, not her mother or father but _her_. 

The Prince's eyes meet hers just as she's two steps above where he stands, and then he begins, a smile playing at his lips, "Juliet. About last night..."


End file.
